


The Naujaat Diaries

by KLessard



Series: Arctic Seasons [5]
Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Post-Call of the Wild, Realism, Siblings, Spring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 18:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8220089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KLessard/pseuds/KLessard
Summary: In the spring of 2005, Constables Fraser and MacKenzie are transferred from Inuvik to the two-person detachment of Repulse Bay, a remote Inuit hamlet plagued by a suicide epidemic. Excerpt from Constable Fraser's journal. Inspired by true events.





	

March 6, 2005

The sky is particularly clear tonight. I can see Ursa Major from my living room window. This reminds me of a proverb my mentor Tom Quinn used to quote when I was growing up: "Even the strongest eagle cannot soar higher than the stars."

Today marks the anniversary of my grandmother Martha Fraser's passing. I went through my bookcase and waves of memories came crashing in with each spine. The most vivid remains the night my father took me to my grandparents' house here in Inuvik and left. It was a little over a month after my mother's death; Grandmother Martha smiled in a compassionate way and gave me the necessary time to adjust, which would turn out to be one of the few times she ever indulged me. Expectations were high and discipline sometimes harsh, but I gained an appreciation for knowledge, selflessness and hard work, and I am grateful to her for it.

The house is unusually quiet as Maggie had three days off and took old Diefenbaker with her to her mother's cabin on the trapline. She wanted to spend some time in the bush before the spring thaw. I lent her a few books and they took off yesterday afternoon. It is on nights such as these that I feel the weight of the years and get to wonder what life would be like if I had made different choices. Did I make the right ones? This question tends to bring traumatic images from the past, especially events where I failed as a police officer. I try to remind myself that my work is essential and I have saved many lives still. I wish I could erase some of the most horrid cases I've had to handle from my memory, but they remain and trouble me when I least expect it.

 

March 7, 2005

I had an enriching conversation with Constable Harris this morning. Harris is a young officer from Toronto who was transferred to the Inuvik detachment five months ago. He started off with great enthusiasm, expecting to bring significant change to the town's west side where poverty and substance abuse are an issue. He thought he could create a solid bond of trust with the residents and help improve their conditions, but has so far failed to do so. Being confronted to violent and uncooperative individuals at the drunk tank Saturday night has left him dejected, and he opened up to me about it. Constable Harris is rather alarmed to see his compassion and faith in humanity dwindle away. He has begun reading a self-help book titled "Revive your Inner Goodness." Maggie and Sergeant Matthews had a good laugh when they saw it on his desk, and I can't for the life of me figure out why.

 

March 8, 2005

Sergeant Matthews called us into his office today. He announced there is an immediate opening at the two-person detachment of Repulse Bay, V Division; our understanding of the Inuit people and its historical trauma would be welcome in a community where an unusual number of suicides have taken place in recent months. My knowledge of Inuktitut and experience in such communities would be a major asset, he said, and since Maggie and I have previously expressed our willingness to be assigned to isolated postings, he wanted to let us know about it. He prefers to see Northerners with a heart for the Inuit exercise their duties "not grudgingly, or of necessity: for God loveth a cheerful giver" rather than having young Southerners provide inept service to the needy hamlet. I was puzzled to see Maggie nod and show a marked interest for the prospect. I expected her to hesitate since she's spent her whole existence in Inuvik and has grown deep roots in this town. She explained she's been feeling like her life is going around in circles and this change would give her the good shake she needs; she has already served ten years at this detachment and fears she will soon be transferred anyway. I did some research on the Repulse Bay plight tonight. I must say I would love to bring my contribution to the Aivilingmiut. I was hoping to stay in Inuvik a while longer, but this uprooting would probably feel quite different if Maggie comes along. Policing remote hamlets was initially what I had in mind when I felt homesick in Chicago, but I do remember how demanding the task is.

 

March 10, 2005

My sister and I sat down for lunch and had a frank discussion on our new prospect. I warned Maggie that a two-person detachment workload can be quite overwhelming. While office hours are Monday to Friday from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., constables are on call 24 hours a day and get little rest. Relief officers are flown in once in a while so we can get a break, but we would have to brace ourselves for quite a ride.

Maggie had considered that part of the equation; the possibility of a transfer against her will is a matter that is more pressing to her. She wants to start learning Inuktitut right away and asked if I could give her some lessons. We informed Sergeant Matthews of our intentions. He nodded but said he was rather sorry to see us go.

 

March 14, 2005

A Relocation Reviewer contacted us about housing arrangements this morning. Maggie and I are willing to share a furnished residence and alleviate the community's housing shortage. "The Finance Branch is going to love you," the lady replied. We even proposed to live at the detachment as it used to be done, but the reviewer only laughed at us.

I give Maggie an Inuktitut lesson every day and she is truly eager to learn. She speaks Inuvialuktun fluently enough and is well-versed in Inuit social norms, but believes she will not be fit to police the Repulse Bay detachment unless she gains a solid understanding of the local language and culture. She once admitted she feels intimidated by the fact I was raised by librarians who had turned me into "a walking encyclopaedia, although it often comes in handy." She feared I perceived her as boorish and thought she made poor conversation. I assured her those thoughts had never crossed my mind. I do not get to meet ambidextrous human polygraphs everyday, I said, and I had always esteemed her keen spirit. She did not think there was anything particular about any of that.

Maggie is surprised to have many people telling her she will be missed. Aluki Kudlak is heartbroken. She does look up to her godmother with much admiration and is considering joining the Force when she grows up. I told her there is a great need for Inuit constables, and her contribution would be appreciated. Sarah cried when her friend announced she was leaving, but she knew it was bound to happen some day.

 

March 31, 2005

My sister and I have landed in Repulse Bay tonight. The current temperature is 30 degrees below. We are too tired to undertake anything. Adjusting to the new time zone will take a day or two, but our quarters are quite cozy. The house is decently furnished and there are bedrooms with a cot for each of us. Diefenbaker was glad to step off the plane and is running his heart out around the place. We had not seen him display such energy in a long while. His prime years are certainly behind him. I don't know how long he still has to go and I hate to think about it.

 

April 1, 2005

We had a major snow storm today. I fell on Maggie's photo album while unpacking and sat down to flip through its pages. I like to look at it once in a while to get a glimpse of what I missed as she was growing up. A picture taken by Roy Elias when Maggie and Sarah were ten shows the girls in early spring on a dogsled. Sarah's brother Red, who now lives in Yellowknife, is standing behind them, smiling. Maggie told me she used to envy Sarah about Red. I asked why. She replied she had once opened up to Sarah about how frightened and restless she got at night sometimes. She had not received much empathy from her friend; nocturnal fears were no big deal to Sarah who would join Red, curl up close to him and go back to sleep in no time. Maggie said her mother would let her sleep by her side when she was a young child, but once she had reached a certain age, she was expected to show bravery and overcome her fears. I believe our grandmother Martha would have approved of Ellen MacKenzie's methods as she used to sing a similar tune when I was a boy. I felt awful sorry and wished I had been there for Maggie when she needed me. I asked her what those fears were. They were many, one of which consisting in their cabin burning down and her mother perishing in the fire, leaving her alone and helpless in the middle of the bush. Another was that a Grizzly bear would break in and attack them. She had a recurring nightmare about going blind and trying to find her way along the Dempster Highway with no passer-by willing to lend her a hand. Urban legends and stories of the paranormal were also sources of great anguish and sleepless nights.

Maggie inquired about my childhood fears; this is not a topic I have discussed often, and I cannot dissociate the question from the daunting events of my mother's murder. I entered a sinister crevasse of the soul I did not wish to revisit, but Maggie had her arm around me, and there was warmth both physical and emotional that brought a light into the menacing place. I believe I described it to her in a satisfactory manner, although I could not recall distinct elements the way she had. I remember a carefree attitude I once had and was forced to renounce at once; my mother being buried and me venturing into the unknown. I could only charge and let the various fears fade into abstract forms. My grandparents' library later brought instruction that took the sting away from those threats, but before this, abstraction and cold blood were my exclusive remedies. I try not to give Maggie a negative image of our father, yet until a decision was made for me to follow my grandparents on their travels, weeks passed during which there was only Dad and I at home; the many evenings I'd spend alone while he was out chasing felons left me in great agitation. "What if he doesn't come back?" was a question I'd ask myself every time. And when he eventually took some time off, he was so absent-minded we did not speak, and I was quite alone still. I felt I could not lean on him, and that was frightening indeed.

 

April 3, 2005

The temperature has considerably warmed up. A friendly young man named Jaycolassie Simik offered to show us around; he works as a tour guide, and took us to the floe edge by snowmobile to see the narwhals. The day was windy yet sunny and we had a wonderful time. The strangeness of the Monodon monoceros emerging tusk first always makes for an enthralling spectacle; I shivered in fear and delight to ponder on the waters' hidden depths and creatures swimming under our feet. "I know you will see ugly and painful things dealing with crime here," Jaycolassie said, "but I wanted you to know Repulse Bay isn't just that." He also took us to the cliff where seagulls nest in summertime and from which the hamlet got its Inuktitut name "Naujaat" meaning "seagull fledglings." I engaged the conversation in Inuktitut and Jaycolassie was very pleased to hear me speak his language. I asked Maggie if she preferred English, but she wants to get used to Inuktitut, and pressed us to keep on so she could learn. She asked our guide where she could go hunting and he pointed out the best spots. Jaycolassie Simik displayed a strong sense of belonging to this hamlet and seems truly invested in his people's well-being. He looks at what could be and not only what is and I hope to meet many more like him here.

 

April 5, 2005

Living with my sister is a refreshing experience. We did not get to grow up together, but are now sharing the same roof and discovering each other's habits. Maggie walked into the kitchen as I ironed my underwear today. She watched like one fascinated. She seemed to consider the practice rather unusual, so I asked if she irons her own underwear. "I never saw the need," she replied. We had an engrossing conversation on the various fabrics used in female underwear which are of a different kind than men's, and they apparently don't wrinkle easily. "Who taught you to do this?" she asked, and I explained how our grandmother Martha would starch and iron both our grandfather and my own underwear and how she had passed her technique down to me. Maggie was so entertained, she laughed heartily. "Didn't Casey starch his underwear?" I inquired. He did not. He did not even iron his but was content with having it plain folded and put away in a drawer. Now, that came across as negligent to me, but I did not tell her because I know her late husband is a delicate subject, and she doesn't like to discuss it.

Maggie was delighted to come across an intact caribou skull in one of our neighbours' yard yesterday. She asked a teenager who lives there if she could keep it. He looked at her funny but nodded, and she hung it in her bedroom saying it evokes plenty of her fondest childhood memories. There is something creepy about Maggie when it comes to hunting and carcasses. There are associations happening in her head I will never understand. I suppose growing up watching your mother skinning animals will do this to you.

 

April 6, 2005

We received a sobering phone call early this morning. Seventeen-year-old Jack Tagalik hung himself in a closet while the rest of his family was sound asleep. His cousins found his body as they went looking for clothes for the school day. There are no social workers in Naujaat at the moment, and I had to sit with Jack's parents and siblings and act as grief counsellor. The younger children were confused while the older ones cried. The Tagaliks are a large family, and with the housing shortage, eighteen of them are presently living in a four-bedroom house; each bedroom contains two or three mattresses spread on the floor for everyone to sleep in, and the walls and windows are badly damaged. Building materials are hard to come by in these parts. It was difficult to find a quiet place to sit for our discussion. Mrs Tagalik would not open up and preferred to be left alone with her children, wondering how a stranger like me could be of any help to them. Maggie took upon herself to conduct the investigation and rule out any possibility of homicide in her cold-blooded manner. She likes to think of herself as pragmatic, although I know she is not uncaring, only wearing her heart in her pocket instead of wearing it on her sleeve. We sure didn't expect to deal with a suicide on our very first week in Naujaat; Maggie is getting the shake she needed alright, but I don't think it is the kind of shaking she originally had in mind.

 

April 8, 2005

An anonymous tip led to the arrest of one Jim Kusugak this afternoon. The young man had small amounts of cocaine and hashish in his possession, and a vehicle search revealed empty packages suggesting ongoing drug trafficking. He is presently held in our cell block and Maggie brought him his supper an hour ago. He uses colourful language as a way of protest, and threw a few insults at her when she approached his cell. She stared through the window in this unsettling way of hers which makes you feel like she can see right through you. She did not have to say a word to quiet him down, and this is something that always impresses me. Some policemen wear their uniform like a second skin; the first thing people see when they look at them is the power vested in them, and they shake. Margaret MacKenzie inspires precisely that. I do not see my sister in this way myself, but I have noticed it is the effect she has on many.

I asked Maggie how she likes her experience so far. "I miss the bush," was her only complaint. The absence of trees startles her. The stark tundra does have a way of making you feel vulnerable, and I am always in awe of the Inuit's ingenuity when I stop to think about it. Who were those men and women who first managed to survive the Arctic desert armed with uluit, kudliks and igluit? Having the sea so close at hand is a pleasant novelty, and it is obviously perceived as a great wealth in Naujaat. Maggie will soon get her fishing and hunting licenses and this will hopefully reduce the grocery bill. A bag of flour goes for 30 dollars at the Northern Store. Maggie's game should help us feed our prisoners and perhaps provide for some impoverished families in the community. I hear many of them can barely make ends meet.

 

April 11, 2005

A second suicide case was brought to my attention this morning; Victor Killiktee, 19, shot himself last night with an unregistered firearm a kilometre away from the hamlet. I was able to confirm Victor had indeed taken his own life; his family and friends all spoke of a severe cocaine addiction and how the young man had shown signs of depression in recent weeks.

Maggie was on another call for a suicide attempt by suffocation, and met a nurse from the health centre who told her three women had been admitted for the same reason last month. One of them had been sexually assaulted the year before, and because of the housing shortage, had had no other choice but to keep living with her abuser. "I feel for them, Benton," Maggie said. "Being stuck in a crowded home would be the death of me. And sharing it with someone I fear on top of that! I'd be choking for air and space." All in all, there have been six suicides and eight attempts in Naujaat since January for a hamlet of some 700 souls. This overwhelming trend is seen all over the territory; the Government of Nunavut implemented a suicide prevention strategy last year, but its tangible impact remains to be seen.

 

April 12, 2005

I dropped by the Co-op for a bite at noon and met a talented carver named Joe Irniq. He works mainly with serpentine and his sculptures are on display in the cooperative's glass case along with those of a dozen local artists. He had come to add three more to the collection, one of which represented a walrus lying on its side; the soapstone's brown tone made Irniq's creation rather life-like, and I purchased it from him in honour of the Aivilingmiut, the "people of the walrus place." I asked if he had eaten. He agreed to have lunch with me and talk about his techniques. My uniform made him nervous at first, but once I'd shared my interest for carving and told him about my woodwork, his tongue was freed. Joe works exclusively with hand tools, as he dislikes the noise of power tools and the amount of dust they leave everywhere. He asked a few questions about my police work; I mentioned the suicide issue, and the carver nodded, looking away as if staring into the eyes of a painful memory. Joe Irniq had contemplated suicide on three occasions as a young man; he said there was deep confusion as to who he was and who his people were and where they were all going. Carving had allowed him to find his identity as an Inuit as he'd tried to bring his traditions and the animals associated with them to life in his art. When an Australian tourist had purchased a polar bear sculpture from him one summer, he had felt great joy and a sense of accomplishment, considering how someone had travelled from so far away to visit his hamlet, explore his culture and bring back a piece of it with him down under. "I felt I was worth something," he said. "I felt like my people had a right to exist and was meant to exist. I hope those youngsters can come to appreciate who we are and not take their lives in a moment of despair." I asked if the pieces he carves help define his people through a kind of symbolism. He nodded again and offered me a bright, toothless smile. Joe Irniq believes Naujaat's youth are torn between two worlds, the traditional Inuit ways and modern realities and they don't know where to go from there. He wishes there were more hunting expeditions to reinforce the traditions as well as feeding the hamlet, but high fuel and food prices make such expeditions costly and only few can afford them.

 

April 14, 2005

A new tragedy hit the Tagalik household today. Jack Tagalik's fourteen-year-old cousin Silas hung himself in the bathroom and was found by his uncle in the morning. We discovered that Silas' older sister Elisapie was murdered by her abusive boyfriend in Baker Lake two years ago, making the loss even heavier for the family. Silas' ten-year-old sister Alasie was sobbing uncontrollably, as in a state of panic. The child was born with leg length discrepancy and suffers intimidation at school. Silas' uncle told us her brother was very protective of her, leaving her feeling like she has now lost her shield.

I sensed abashment as the Tagaliks wondered what they were doing wrong and how they could have prevented Jack and Silas' deaths. Postvention is crucial in this case since imitative suicidal behaviour seems to be taking root, but the Tagaliks are still unreceptive to counselling.

 

April 18, 2005

Maggie and I awoke to a succession of rifle shots at four o'clock this morning. We dressed up quickly, and as Maggie looked out the window with her revolver in hand, another shot came, breaking the glass and missing her by about a foot. I grabbed my sister and pulled her to the ground. We had not been in Naujaat long enough to make enemies; who was this gunman and why was he attacking us personally? Diefenbaker was barking frantically. We heard voices and neighbours gathering, begging one Levi Kidlapik to stop and surrender his weapon. The confrontation lasted an hour during which the assailant fired five more times at the house as I attempted dialogue through the broken window. Levi Kidlapik would not speak to us for the longest time until he shot once in the air, screaming: "Come out here!" angrily. "What is your request?" I asked. "Come out here, both of you!" At this point, a valiant man by the name of Joanasie Anguk pushed Kidlapik in the snow and succeeded in taking the firearm away from him, making a citizen's arrest. Maggie and I rushed outside and handcuffed the drunken man who broke down and cried all the way to the detachment. As much as he had frightened us half to death a moment before, we felt rather sorry for him at this point; Kidlapik was having an anxiety attack. Maggie filed a report in the office while I stayed with the man in his cell, trying to find out what had happened and what his motivations were. He would not answer my questions. When I brought him breakfast three hours later, he apologized and explained he had attacked us in the hope that we would kill him in self-defence. Kidlapik's girlfriend had broken up with him the night before and he wanted to die so badly. "I meant no harm," he said. "I'm a good shot and could have killed you both if I wanted to. I didn't."

I am still very much shaken. I made Maggie promise she would always call me for backup if she had to deal with violent offenders here. I wonder if agreeing to this transfer was a good decision after all. The risk is so high with only two constables to handle every call. Things have changed since my first postings in these communities. Our involvement in the Force has cost us both enough already. It frightens me to look back and recognize how lonely I was before I discovered I had a sister. I would not want to lose her and face that lonesomeness once more.

 

April 20, 2005

A noteworthy event which fills me with both joy and wonder took place today, and I still don't know what to make of it. As we drove back to the detachment after answering a call for domestic disturbance around 7 p.m., a crowd began to gather out on the bay. We pulled over to investigate, and discovered a heap of illicit drugs, pornographic magazines and heavy metal recordings rising higher and higher as the Aivilingmiut rushed back and forth to add their contribution to the mound. I asked a man what they intended to do with this. "We are going to burn it," he answered. "We are coming clean before the Lord." I made a brief assessment and found they were planning to destroy some 40 000 dollars worth of material. I told myself I was surely asleep and dreaming, so I turned to ask my sister to shake me. Maggie was speaking to one of the elders. She walked back to our patrol vehicle, took the gas can from the trunk and offered it to the elder who gladly poured the fuel onto the pile. Matches were thrown in, the heap inflamed; a thick, dark smoke rose up into the air and was soon carried away towards the sea as we stepped back to contemplate the merry bonfire.

What sort of impact will this have on the hamlet? I have often seen how the interception of a bootlegger's shipment has prevented violence in dry towns; hopefully the drugs destroyed will ease the strife in Naujaat for the weeks to come.

 

April 23, 2005

Diefenbaker spends most of his days sleeping or lying around. The weather was cloudy and mild and I decided to take him out for a walk after lunch. I had to lecture him on the importance of exercise and fresh air before he agreed to budge. Maggie handed me some pemmican to stuff my parka pocket with and Diefenbaker followed willingly. We met young Alasie Tagalik on our way to the bay. I recognized her unique gait and sent Diefenbaker out to greet her. She was taken by surprise and stepped back, asking if he bites. "He is very affectionate with little girls," I said. "He won't bite you. Let him smell your hand." She took her mitten off and Diefenbaker sniffed her. He let her pet him on the head and I gave her some pemmican: "Feed him and make yourself a pal." Alasie wore a lovely spotted sealskin anorak with a pointy hood and I complimented her on it. "My grandmother made it," she replied. Her brothers and sister had worn it before her. Could she eat some of the pemmican I had given her? I gave her some more and inquired if she was hungry. She shrugged and looked down with a kind of shame. I asked how she was feeling. "Fine" was her evasive answer. She was as reluctant as her mother and aunt to talk, but I told her she could come to the detachment at any time for a chat. She nodded and limped away. I am planning to go to Tusarvik on a school day to observe how the bullying issue is being played out on the playground and in the halls.

 

April 25, 2005

Maggie agreed to run the detachment office on her own this morning so I could go to Tusarvik, meet the teachers and see if we could get involved with the Drug Abuse Resistance Education program. I chose not to wear my uniform as it influences youngsters to act differently around me. I wanted a true glimpse of the student dynamic in Naujaat, so I sat down on a stone a few steps away from the playground. I spotted Alasie Tagalik soon enough; she walked close to the wall and kept to herself. A few girls her age looked at her with certain pity as she limped passed them, and I suppose they didn't know how to tackle her profound grief. Alasie had brought a book she looked up from once in a while; her attention was directed at a tall boy who stood at the opposite side of the playground. He was a few years older than Alasie and looked somewhat familiar to me. "The looser is back," he shouted at her intention once he had noticed how she repeatedly glanced at him with apprehension. I am assuming the girl had been away from school following her brother's death and the boy had not seen her since. He walked straight to Alasie, snatched the book from her hands and threw it violently against the wall. He sneered as if he delighted in her fear and in the power he had over her.  
"I would advise you to stop and apologize immediately, young man," I said.  
The boy turned around and frowned.  
"Who the hell are you?" he asked, insolently.  
"Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police."  
The boy stared in anger and uttered a word I will not transcribe here.  
A teacher later explained I had confronted Jim Kusugak's younger brother Saul; the boy obviously resents me for arresting his sibling who has a rather questionable influence on him. I am told Saul Kusugak is held back and skips school regularly. Tusarvik's personnel think of him as a lost cause and have run out of ideas to help him mend his ways. I am worried for Alasie. I know her teachers also have to act as grief counsellors in our present situation; they do offer support, but Alasie is withdrawn and refuses to talk though she is a good enough student. She is occasionally protected by compassionate classmates who feel Saul Kusugak should "pick on someone his size." I had just introduced Tusarvik's principal to the DARE program when Maggie called me for back-up about a suicide attempt involving a firearm. I left in a hurry and joined her at the caller's residence. Loud music was playing in the house, and we entered through the back door unnoticed. A young woman in tears was holding a hunting rifle and threatening to take her own life with her mother begging her not to. "Let me go!" she cried. "I'm a failure, you will all be better off without me." We snuck up from behind, knocked the weapon out of the girl's hands and took her to the health centre for treatment.

I am not used to this sort of policing. What lie these victims believe to think their departure from this world will make life easier for their loved ones! The brokenness and perplexity they leave behind is inexpressible. I am also seeing how it sets an example for others to follow and it is this aspect which frightens me the most. The situation has clearly reached the level of contagion.

 

April 27, 2005

When and how will this ever end? Alasie Tagalik hung herself by the neck on a rope she had tied to the Inns North's satellite dish today. She was found by the hotel manager at first light, and she had been hanging there for at least two hours. He was so horrified he did not dare to cut her down and Maggie and I had to do it ourselves. My sister could not keep it in this time, and we both wept bitterly. Mrs Tagalik is inconsolable. Some of her neighbours are accusing her of not loving her children enough and are imposing a burden of guilt she cannot bear at the moment. Everyone is puzzled at how young Alasie learned to tie a hangman's noose.

I feel powerless.

 

April 30, 2005

Maggie got her small game hunting licence and shot five hares today. She took Diefenbaker with her to see if he would hunt, and he did catch one for himself. Maggie wanted to share her game with the Tagaliks, thinking they could certainly use the extra meat with so many mouths to feed. We were welcomed by Jack Tagalik's older sister, Rachel. She lives in Baker Lake and we had not met before. Maggie asked me to do the talking as she is not yet comfortable with Inuktitut conversation. Rachel Tagalik did not expect me to know her language; she gave Maggie a suspicious look when I explained she had killed the animals herself. "My sister was raised on the trapline in Inuvik," I explained. "Her late husband was a hunting guide and she is a skilled shooter." Rachel's attitude changed; she had taken for granted that we were both Southerners who knew nothing of their way of life. Rachel Tagalik had a surprisingly cynical outlook on the recent hardships befalling her kin. I believe the repetitive blows had stiffened her heart to such a degree she simply expected things to get worse until there was nothing left.  
"Is there anything we can do to help?" I asked.  
"I don't really see how Mounties could be of any help. It's not your job."  
"It is not part of our work description, but we have been forced to handle these situations for lack of social workers and are left wondering how we could do better to prevent more deaths in the community."  
"Some say our family is cursed. Some of us have begun to believe it…Do you think we are cursed?"  
"I think the first to take his life set an example for others to follow. That killing oneself is the only way out of despair is a lie they have all believed."  
"Resources are scarce. What people need is hope. But we are out of sight and out of mind up here. Living in such a remote location has its price tag. Even those who would rather move don't have the money to do it. We are left to our own devices. I suppose there was hope when the new territory was born. We thought we would succeed. We thought we could make it better on our own and our own way. Things only seem to be deteriorating."  
"It may take some time for things to get better."  
"Well, it's too late for all of them."  
Rachel Tagalik looked up; her face expressed clear resentment towards us. Maggie perceived it as well as me. She believes the young woman associates us with the various ills white men have brought to her people through the decades, disturbing their ways of life and introducing poisons Inuit cannot yet handle properly. She is mistrustful and strongly believes in "solutions by Inuit for Inuit," but unlike her mother, seems to acknowledge a need for outside help. She thanked us for the meat yet left us feeling like pries offering cough drops to a cancer patient. And perhaps we were.

I later found Maggie curled up on the sofa with Diefenbaker lying by her side.  
"Can you feel that heaviness?" she asked.  
"I am rather disheartened, yes."  
"Are we failing big time, Benton?"  
"Our intervention seems inadequate. But I believe much of this is beyond our control."  
"Is it only social issues? Is there something more at play? An oppressive force pushing people over the edge?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"I'm not sure. I don't understand it. But I think those people do. Those people who burned their things. They're fighting it on a different level…It's a battle for souls."

I suppose my sister was referring to the notion of spiritual warfare to which Sergeant Matthews introduced her after we were confronted to a possessed man in her mother's cabin five years ago. She has become sensitive to the spiritual dimension since. Aboriginal people do see spirituality as an integral part of their healing process; they find the white man's approach lacking as it does not take spiritual matters into account, having gradually rejected them to the point of thinking they have no relevance at all. Material elements can be arranged and rearranged to no end; an inner nature that remains unchanged will keep causing havoc external improvements cannot stop.  
"I will get supper ready," I said.  
"Don't make anything for me. I want to fast."  
Maggie retired to her room and went to bed early.

I am baffled as I write these words. Diligence and goodwill have proven insufficient so far, and I am at a loss as to how to do my work effectively from now on.

 

May 1, 2005

Naujaat is a mysterious place; a wondrous thing happened tonight as we headed home after a stroll along the bay. A sound of music and Inuktitut singing rang ever clearer as we approached a plain white building easily mistaken for a snowy knoll in the distance. A thin brown cross and an inscription indicated we had stumbled upon Naujaat's Glad Tidings church where a service was being held. The spring air was rather still, yet it appeared that a strong wind and a roll of thunder had filled the building which was shaken to its foundations. We stared wide-eyed for a moment. Much to my surprise, Maggie was deeply moved and exclaimed "Come on!" as she pulled me in the low ceiling sanctuary where an Inuit congregation wept and prayed with its hands up in the air. The musicians had put their instruments down, trying to make sense of what they were hearing. I was just as perplexed, and joined the young man standing by the sound system. He had turned everything off thinking there was something wrong with the speakers, but the sound of the rushing wind kept getting louder and louder. Many were now on their knees saying: "Holy Spirit, come down, come down!" Maggie was wiping tears off her cheeks, standing side by side with an old man we had repeatedly arrested for public intoxication. He was pressing a rumpled New Testament to his chest and asking for deliverance. This lasted a few minutes and the noise slowly receded, leaving a contemplative silence behind it.

Maggie said nothing at all on the way home. I thought I would have to drag an explanation out of her until she whispered:  
"It has lifted."  
"What has lifted?" I asked.  
"Couldn't you sense that oppression? The hamlet was full of it."  
I admitted the succession of suicides had indeed plunged Naujaat in deep consternation, but what she was referring to was rather abstract and spiritual in nature.  
"You cried with that drunkard," I said. "Why?"  
"Something got a hold of me…I am no better than him."  
That was a strange declaration, but Maggie spoke with conviction. She believes a difference was made tonight. She did not expound, as if she feared I would not understand nor take her seriously. I now know it is useless to force Maggie to talk until she has processed her thoughts, and I am willing to wait for her to point out that difference as she sees it unfold.

 

May 10, 2005

Child suicide leaves no one indifferent. Alasie Tagalik's death shook Naujaat to its core, and I heard an old man in the street declare: "We have to sit down and talk about it." I find this reassuring, as silence only perpetuates the bleeding and leaves the suicidal with no other option but to execute their plan.

There has not been any suicide since Alasie's two weeks ago. Maggie is not getting her hopes up but says she has the impression one gets when the thick cloud cover dissipates after a storm.

I ran into Saul Kusugak's teacher at the Co-op yesterday. I asked how he reacted to Alasie's death. Many of his classmates are holding him responsible and he is in a state of shock. You cannot mess with matches every day without ever getting burned or setting the house on fire. Mrs Stuart found him unusually introspective and we are both confident this affliction will help turn his life around.

 

May 11, 2005

We met a young mother carrying a baby boy in her amauti this morning. We smiled at them, and as I pondered on this new life full of promise, Maggie chuckled.  
"What's so funny?" I asked. "Are you laughing at them?"  
"I'm laughing at myself, actually," she replied.  
She told me that when Aluki Kudlak was born, Sarah had once asked her to baby-sit and explained how to use the amauti if she wanted to go for a walk. Maggie had never worn such a garment and badly wanted to try it. Sarah Kudlak is considerably plumper than Maggie, and the parka did not fit my sister too well. Once her friend was gone, she had set Aluki into the pouch, but the baby had slipped into her sleeve and was struggling to escape. "I'm laughing now, but I wasn't laughing then," Maggie said. "I was praying so hard! I thought she would choke and I was very afraid to squish her. You should have seen me dancing around the living room trying to get her out of there!" Aluki had finally found her way back up, popping a dishevelled head out of the pouch to Maggie's great relief.  
I asked Maggie if she plans to have children some day. She had begun discussing this with her husband when he got shot, and it took her a while to get over these events and Casey Richmond's lies. She doesn't know if she'll marry again and says she has a hard time trusting people now. "What makes you trust people?" I asked. She paused to think about it, and I inquired if she trusted me. "Of course," she said. I wanted to know why, and she answered: "You told me the truth you'd found about my husband's crimes and you insisted, even if I didn't like it and wouldn't believe it."

May has been characterized by light but regular snowfall so far, and the temperature has not yet risen above zero. Sarah Kudlak called the other day and told us Inuvik is in full flood mode and everybody is walking around in their rubber boots. For some odd reason, Maggie and I felt very low after hearing this and wished we could fly over for a visit.

 

May 12, 2005

My little sister turned thirty-five today. We have not yet made close friends to speak of, so I could not think of anyone to invite, but I baked a cake and we had a nice supper of arctic char together. Sugar tends to have an exhilarating effect on Maggie and she declared: "Well, now that we are both official members of the Old Fogies Association, I say we complete our three years here in Repulse Bay, resign and retire to my mother's cabin in Inuvik. I'll go trapping and you can grow a beard, work on your carving and sell sculptures. If you ever feel bored, you could volunteer your tracking skills to the RCMP. How's that sound?"  
"Sounds like a plan," I said, "But you are too young to join the Association."  
"Nonsense. It's an attitude thing. I'm nobody's fool and I daresay I have reached a higher level than you have at this."  
"I'll grant you that."  
Maggie was in jest, but I know leaving the Force and going back to the bush is an idea she brings up once in a while, and she means to do it one day. I asked if she really plans to retire early.  
"I do feel like I'm over the hill," she answered. "Maybe it's the exhaustion. It's not physical, but it's the feeling of having seen more death and depravity than you ever expected in your lifetime. Don't you feel the need to get away from it all at times?"  
I nodded. I can relate to this, but it appears to be a more persisting feeling for Maggie.  
"This world makes less and less sense to me," she affirmed.  
You would think these words to be those of a despondent mind, but she was at peace about it, as if this was a meaningful place to start and get to work.  
"It's broken," she went on. "We're all broken. That's where redemption becomes indispensable. That's where we can start afresh. We all need to die first, but not in the way these people have. I see it now; this misery is fertile ground for those who really want that redemption."  
"You think that's what happened at Glad Tidings that night?"  
Maggie nodded.

Days are getting longer, and we should see the midnight sun in three weeks. Diefenbaker has taken a liking to walks along the shore and was barking non-stop at the door so we would go after supper. We met walrus hunters hauling an impressive catch out there. They were chatting away with great pride and enthusiasm as they parted the meat between families waiting with their plastic bags and cardboard boxes. My face must have brightened up at this sight, because Maggie squeezed my arm and said: "You _will_ get your ideal sometimes, Benton."


End file.
